Watson's Angel
by DocWho999
Summary: Everyone believes Sherlock Holmes to be dead. Well, everyone except Jane Moriarty... Told from multiple different POV's, Jane is Jim's twin, and the overall mastermind behind the plans. And she's come out from the shadows to finish Sherlock off - once and for all. All she has to do is gain John's trust...T with some minor language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Sherlock_, but I am rather excited about my Jane character.

Thank you so much to my friend who's been reading over my work, and without who's help, John would not seem nearly so human...

Enjoy and review, please.

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**Jane POV**

This is ridiculous. He comes every Tuesday of every week at exactly noon. For a month. _Sherly_ allows for change…But not this man – no, _oh_ no, _he's_…well…_boring_.

So where _is_ Johnny-boy then?

**John POV**

If Sherlock could see me now, he'd call me a sentimental fool. He'd find  
some confusing and complicated way of telling me that I am a complete  
idiot, the way I visit his grave all the time. But isn't it ok for a person  
to miss their best friend?

Well today…after this visit…after this visit I'll have tea with Mrs. Hudson – yes that sounds good, tea with Mrs. Hudson. Normal. Good, yes.

Then perhaps…perhaps I'll move back in…into our – my – flat. Perhaps…

_Should_ I visit the grave?

Maybe just this one last time…

**Jane POV**

I kneel down in front of the headstone waiting to hear the crunch of leaves or the snap of a twig.

"Ahh," twigs snap, leaves crunch, Johnny-boy trips over a root…

Finally.

It's time to play.

Bowing my head, bringing forth tears, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I feel it's m-my fault you're dead…my fault, all mine, I shouldn't have given up on him. You're never supposed to give up on family, but…well, you met him. He was criminally – violently – insane. I should've gotten him help, but he refused…what was I supposed to do?"

Pause just long enough to breath and sniffle, but not long enough to give Johnny an entrance point and… "He always did look for someone like him…said I was too far on the side of the angels…and he needed someone who wasn't…so he could play. I didn't even know what he'd got himself into! No one did. He was like a spider in his web…all those strands, all those people. All from his own secluded place…I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"

**John POV**

Stupid damned roots, someone should really take care of them. Well, it could be worse; I could still need my cane and – hang on. Who in the hell is that?

"What was I supposed to do?" I open my mouth to speak – whether in an attempt to comfort or out of sheer dumbfoundedness, I can't quite say – but the mystery woman just starts up again with, "He always did look for someone like him...said I was too far on the side of the angels…" Side of the angels? What is she talking about? Who _talks _like that?

But she's still going, "He was like a spider in his web…all those strands, all those people." _Who_ was like a _what_?

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"

I go to take a step forward but the woman kneeling by the grave mustn't have heard me, because she jolts around with a startled look in her eyes as I say, "Who _are_ you?" I immediately feel remorse for it as she's clearly distraught over something. "It's just that Sherlock doesn't get many visitors…"

"Y-you must be Dr. John Watson. I'm sorry; I hope I'm not inconveniencing you. It's just that…well…I haven't really had a chance to say m-my apologies for – well, for everything. And I didn't think I should go to the funeral. It just didn't seem right for a variety of reasons…" She moves to stand up but still seems shaky, so I hold out my hand for her to grab; she accepts.

She's pretty: black hair, shocking brown, almost black, eyes…you know, she actually reminds me of –

"My name's Jane."

**Jane POV**

I hear him coming – of _course_ I hear him coming – but I do nothing but continue muttering "I'm so sorry" as tears slip from my eyes. I wait until he gets bold enough – and surprised enough – to jolt around as he asks, "Who _are_ you?"

Of course, I play the startled little damsel with tears still in her eyes – Johnny-boy really is _such_ a sucker…– and he immediately goes all puppy-dog on me: "It's just that Sherlock doesn't get many visitors…" he backtracks.

Backtracking already? This is going to be almost too easy.

Almost.

Still with my legs curled to my side, and in an attempt to keep the smirk I can feel coming wiped clean off my face, I say, "Y-you must be Dr. John Watson. I'm sorry; I hope I'm not inconveniencing you." OH, he has _no_ idea…"It's just that…well…I haven't really had a chance to say m-my apologies for – well, for everything." I don't _do_ apologies... "And I didn't think I should go to the funeral. It just didn't seem right for a variety of reasons…" I move to stand up, purposefully on unsteady legs, so the good doctor will go into full chivalry mode.

Of course he does – predictable people always are thus – and I accept his hand shyly. I can see him taking in my appearance – and can therefore foresee the oncoming train wreck – "My name's Jane."

"J-John. John Watson," he stutters – clearly having just lost his train of thought thank _God_ – still bumbling about adding, "But um…of course you knew that already, then, didn't you?" The question is more to himself than anyone else but it's hard not to retort with a glib _I hadn't the faintest…_all the same. Instead, "It's nice to finally meet you Doctor; I've heard so many nice things."

"You have?" Still a bit out of it, then – if I were any other woman I'd think it adorable – well, ok. It is _slightly_ adorable…you know, I really should just get it over with and get a live-in one… "Well, that's good, that's…that's nice…it's just, what are you doing here? How did you know Sherlock?"

Aaand he's back. Good – I was beginning to think this would be like shooting fish in a barrel… "I didn't – not really anyway – but I do know _of_ him. He was a good man and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." He just sort of blinks, processing what I've told him – he must truly _still_ be in mourning over Sherly…why isn't he over it yet? I truly do not understand sentiment.

He's still holding me up, so slipping away easily isn't an option – but why on Earth would I want that? That would be so _boring_… "Well Doctor, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you get to what you came here for. I'm sorry for disturbing your time with him." Time with him? He's not even in the coffin! But what can you do, hm? It's not his _time _yet – not until I say – he's not…ready yet.

I pull away, making sure to maintain my shaky façade, but he isn't going to let me go that easily (slightly less _boring_, then?) "Wait." I stop and turn uncertainly back around. "Umm…I rather think I can spare the visit, I mean, it's not like I don't do this often, yeah?" _No kidding_. "A-and, you have every right to be here, it's not like I have these few hours blocked off on a little chart." He laughs, so I join in – he looks reassured, so he must really _have_ been trying to flirt. In a graveyard? I guess Sherly rubbed off on him more than I'd thought – _timing_.

We stand there awkwardly, and there's no clear indication that he'll break the ice by the next ice age, so I do it for him. "Do you want to go for a coffee? With me? I mean, I understand if this is bad timing and all but I just…I don't know. I could use someone to talk to…" It's all I can do _not_ to bat my eyelashes at him – for God's sake, I sound like a cheesy romance novel, there's no way people actually get off on this shit, is there?

"Yes!" Realizing he's left the door wide open for interpretation "Not to the timing part, the coffee part. I'd love to – and I think talking is a good idea…for the both of us."

Well what do you know? People really do go for it…or maybe it's just him –

Nah, can't be. He's _boring_. One of the _angels._

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**Author's Note:** I look forward to reviews :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Sherlock_, but I am rather excited about my Jane character.

I'm sorry for the long update - I'll try to get Chapter 3 up sooner.

Thank you so much to my friend who's been reading over my work, and without who's help, John would not seem nearly so human...

Enjoy and review, please.

* * *

**John POV**

I can't believe my day has gone like this. Who would have thought that I'd plan to see Sherlock one last time, go have tea with Mrs. Hudson for the first time in a long while, and maybe move back in but instead meet a beautiful woman in the graveyard and go for coffee with her?

I still don't know who she is though. She hasn't said much since she asked me to go for coffee…but I thought she wanted to talk?...she either looks at me shyly or gazes glassy-eyed out of the window.

"You're probably confused." My head snaps toward her as she speaks for the first time in 45 minutes.

"Yeah – yes – yes, I am." What is it about this woman that makes me lose myself? And those eyes…so haunted…No. That's not quite right, is it…they're haunt_ing_…I could lose myself in those eyes.

"Right then," she mutters, trying to muster up courage before continuing, "You have questions. Ask them." Hold on, _You have questions…_Sherlock – Sherlock said – never mind.

"Yes, well, alright. What were you doing in the graveyard?" She shoots me a look – a look I thought I would never see again, frankly – a look that quite clearly states, 'Isn't it obvious?'

Only it's not quite like his, no – not like I'd first thought – now I see this one has undertones of inner-pain – I have to remember: she's not him, she never will be – no one…ever will be again.

And she's under emotional stress; loads of people don't act exactly socially normal under social stress.

Who in the hell is this woman?

**Jane POV**

Now, where are we in the over-all scheme? _Oh_, yes – coffee, Johnny-boy, gain his trust. Not a particularly _detailed_ step but, there you go! I've been flirting shyly with him for the past half an hour but to no avail – he really _does_ let sentiment rule his life, doesn't he – and I realize I've been partially stuck in my own world (entertaining as it may be) for _far_ too long to pass for an 'ordinary' person, which must be suspicious to the King of Boring-land – and he's _never _going to get the ball rolling on his own sooo – "You're probably confused."

I have to keep back my wince. Nice going, Janey. Really. Excellent job there – just look at the shock on his face – now he thinks you're a _sociopath_.

Well, of course, you **are** a sociopath – albeit a mentally unbalanced one – but that is besides the point. HE doesn't need to know it.

"Yeah – yes – yes, I am." I'm as of yet unsure as to whether the stuttering is his shock that I'm speaking again or if I'm reminding him too much of Sherly, but either way, I have to fix this. And fast.

I see him staring – no, sorry – _gazing_ into my eyes and I realize this probably won't end well if he's allowed to keep it up unchecked. It's not **time** yet, after all.

"Right then." Was that too blunt of me? Best to take a deep breath and make it seem like I'm in a lot of emotional pain. "You have questions. Ask them." Again – too blunt. _What_ is the matter with me today?

He looks rather startled, and not in the **fun** kind of way, either. Am I reminding him too much of Sherly?

Ah, well. Hopefully he'll just assume emotional pain drives us all a bit _mad_.

Finally, he speaks up. "Yes, well, alright. What were you doing in the graveyard?" Really? Are you _kidding_ me? Isn't it _obvious_?

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not good. I must have broadcast my thoughts in a look because he's a hop, skip, and a jump away from finding me out. And it's not even _time_ yet! Buuut…throw in a bit of **deep** emotional paaaiin and…crisis averted. Now he just looks sad. Not that that's _new_…

Pretending to muster up enough courage to speak, I take a deep breath. "I was saying my apologies. I-I-I…felt that…felt I needed to." He just looks at me, very confused. Nearly there…but not _yet_. "While I may not have caused his death," Mmmh, debatable. Oooh – I do _love_ a good debate – ok. Sidetracked. "I don't feel I did all I could to prevent it's cause." Clearly.

"How d'you mean?" Is he really _that_ ordinary? That _boring_? He's almost put the clues together _so_ many _times_ already.

Nearly there. Push him to the point and then give him a not-so-gentle **push**. "M-my brother. He caused your friend's death and…well…I feel I have his blood on my hands because of it." Though of course, not literally, because blood is so very _hard_ to wash off. Trust me.

"What do you mean, 'blood on your hands'? How could your brother have had anything to do with Sherlock's death? That was all...oh. Oh, no. No, you're not…not…"

There. "My name is Jane Moriarty."

He nearly chokes on his coffee when he hears my name – I _love_ having that effect, though I don't get to have it that often in _person_ – even though he's almost had it on the tippy-tip of his tongue since the graveyard, but now, now he's in shock.

Johnny-boy, in choking and trying to breathe all at the same time (and, I suspect, trying to get a head start on running the hell away from me), actually _falls_ off of his chair with a **thud**.

I didn't mean the push _that_ literally but…I'm not one to complain when something's just so _funny_.

Oh, why is it so _hard_ to play concerned and to keep from smirking as he flops about trying to get up…

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**Author's Note:** I look forward to reviews :)


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